Midnighters: The Untold Story of Scarlet Lorraine
by FishLovers
Summary: Scarlet is an abused and troubled girl that meets a group of strangers that could change her life for the better... Rated "M" for very dark and mature themes. Contains rape and cutting. All writing is hot-off-the-press! Well, kinda...
1. Chapter 1

_**Midnighters (With a Twist)**_

(told in a perspective of a new character we created: Scarlet Lorraine Young)

Chapter 1

It's the first day of school. I hate school, but I'm all for anything that gets me out of the house. Home is the most terrifying place in the world, at least in my mind. Even a haunted house at _Jason's Woods_ would be like heaven compared to the living hell I come home to everyday.

I'm supposed to be a freshman, but I'm a sophomore. I skipped kindergarden and went right into the first grade. The administrators found me "gifted", so they sent me straight to first grade, so I'm always the youngest person in the grade. That way, people feel they have some sort of superiority to me, so they push me around like I'm a pile of freaking dirt. That's not even the real reason I'm continuosly tortured. It all started in the eighth grade...

"Who do you have a crush on?" was the big topic at my lunch table that day. I had made some great - or so I thought - friends and everyone was dishing their secrets. When the questions started pointing toward me, I thought I had no choice but to be honest with them.

"Amanda Gibson"

Dead silence washed over the lunch table the second I spoke her name.

"But she's a _girl_!" everyone seemed to start shouting at me that it was wrong, but how could any girl not feel attracted to Amanda Gibson? She was gorgeous. Beautiful, blond curls cascaded down on her perfect figure, falling in perfect feathers along her angelic face. I thought it was normal.

"Uhhh... okay. I think this conversation's over."

That was the end of that. Not!

The next day everywhere I went, every corner I turned, that was the only thing people were talking about - my being lesbian.

Crap! It's almost the end of the day.

When I walk into Trigonometry, everything is the same. Suddenly, ten minutes into the class, in walks a girl who makes any angel feel like a broken tricycle standing next to a glossy motorcycle. I find out later that her name is Desdemona, or Dess for short. I was so taken aback by her beauty, my heart stopped beating for a second.

The teacher, Mr. Sanchez, assigns us books and makes us look through it and copy on a peice of paper every flaw in the book - this is my chance to talk to her.

I grab my pencil and toss it next to her foot.

"Ummm... sorry, but could you please get my pencil? It's right next to your foot."

"Sure," she grabs the pencil and hands it to me with grace.

" Oh yeah, my name's Scarlet, by the way," even though I already knew her name, I ask anyway just to be polite and her her voice. "What's your name?"

"Desdemona, but my friends call me Dess."

"Oh. Well, can I call you Dess?"

"Of course."

"Not to bother you again, but could I have your number so I could call you? I don't really have any friends."

She writes on a piece of scrap paper. "Here it is. Call me whenever."

Oh. My. Gosh.

"Why don't you sit with me and some of my friends at lunch tomorrow? It'd be nice to have some change at our table," she said with a heart-stopping smile.

"I'll definitely be there," I smile back, but nobody could stand up to her returning smile.

The bell rang and it was the end of the day. I don't know why I wanted her number, but I'm glad I asked. Maybe there was hope for me after all.

I walk down my street to my beautiful house. Unfortunately, nobody would ever suspect the sick and cruel things that go on behind the big double-doors. I walk inside to the smell of weed, fresh crack, and vodka. I try to make it past my dad, but he isn't high enough yet not to notice me.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Ummm... I have loads of homework to do," I stammered, but he didn't buy it.

"Nobody has homework the first week of school," he said darkly. I trembled. "Come over here."

I walk over to him and he grabs my hand and practically throws me down the stairs to the basement. Mom knows to come along.

"You haven't apologized to me today."

"What did I do?" I ask, but I already know the answer.

"You ruined my life the day you were born!" he yells angrily.

He drags me to the ratty mattress. I want to scream, but that would just make it worse for me and mom, who is forced to watch from the corner. He rips off my clothes and handcuffs me to the headboard. Then he ties my feet to the posts on the lower corners, same as every other day. He is on top of me and he smells revolting in every way. I started feeling sick. He is inside me now. I try to close my legs, but he tied me tight. I start crying. Bad move.

"STOP IT! YOU KNOW YOU LOVE IT, YOU DIRTY LITTLE WHORE!" he pushes harder, sending a wave of excrutiating pain washing through my body and mind. I wish he had the strength to kill me right then and there. Dying would be better than this.

He leaves the room for a minute and comes back with a full bottle of vodka and a bottle opener, then opens the bottle. Next thing I know, vodka is rushing down my throat, cold and burning. I gag.

"GET DRUNK LIKE THE DIRTY WHORE YOU ARE!" he is very angry. He throws the bottle at the wall, smashing at the spot over mother's head, cutting her scalp. He comes crashing down on me, snapping one of my ribs. I start gasping for air, feeling dizzy. He finally is finished raping me. Next comes the belt.

He unties me, flips me over, and reties me, face down on the filthy mattress, not even renaissance-grade. The belt has spikes that cut into me like blades. I can't even feel my back anymore. He gives me an immeasurable amount of lashings, then he switches to a whip. When he's finished, he always asks for the "magic words".

"Thank you, Daddy. I'm sorry I ruined your life."

He leaves me there, tied up, bleeding, and naked, to go on a drug run. When his car is off the street, mom comes down to untie me and gives me some clothes to change back into once she cleans the fresh wounds.

She lifts me onto her back and carries me up to my room to comfort me from all of tonight's trauma. She puts me in her lap on the old rocking chair from my baby days. We both cry, then she apologizes for not being allowed to help me. Dad has a gun and he'll shoot her if she gets too close, interferes, grabs the phone, or looks away. That is the only torture that really hits hard.

Once mom leaves the room, I grab the shoebox under my bed no one knows about except me. Inside is a lighter, razorblade, joint paper, weed, some marlboros, and a bottle of painkillers.

I have a smoke to calm myself down, some bud to make me sink into a place where there is only calmness. I take the razor to my wrists to silence the scream inside. Little crimson lines. I bleed to breathe, to know I'm still alive, to know I can still feel something, to know I can still die.

I don't need the oxys tonight. The weed took me lower than usual, and I fall asleep.

This is where the nightmares begin.

The next morning I wake to the sun shining through my curtainless window. I look at the clock on my nightstand, it reads 6:45am. I get up and take a shower to wake me up and to get the demon's smell off my skin. The hot, steamy water feels nice against my skin. I get out, put my robe on, then go to my room to find a thin, long-sleeve shirt.

When I'm finished, I go down the huge staircase. I realize that the demon is not home this morning - if he was, I would've been woken up by him yelling at me to get up so he could hurt me before school. Luckily, he was nowhere to be found this morning. That made my day a little bit better already. Hopefully, it will continue.

I'm waiting at the bus stop, already overheating. Where else could I cut that wouldn't be so... so... hot? Well, maybe I could just wait for winter. What? I can't wait until winter! I need to cut!

Finally, the air-conditioned bus arrives, saving me from my sweaty misery.

"Lesbo!"

"Gay!"

"Whore!"

"Pregnant Lesbo Nerd!"

Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you... I got pregnant one time when my dad forgot to wear a condom. About a year later, I got pregnant again. The second time I went to get an abortion, the lady who performed it was a student's mother and, of course, her daughter knew every detail. So, apparently,

I'm a nerdy, lesbian whore.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Midnighters: Scarlet Lorraine**_

Here at school, life is miserable. But when I walk into the cafeteria and see Dess' face, it all goes away. I want to run up to the table, but I don't. I walk casually to the table, trying not to cry from everything that's gone wrong in my life.

"Hey, Scarlet," she said in a cheerful voice with a warm smile on her face.

"Hi," I said, sitting down next to Dess.

She points to the guy on the other side of her. "This is Rex."

"Hi, nice to meet you," he says, staring at me with a strange expression on his face. Then he gestures to the girl sitting next to him, "This is Melissa."

The girl just sits there like I'm not even there. I notice she's wearing headphones. I can hear a hiss of power chords and screaming over the roar of the cafeteria.

I watch them eat and consider buying some lunch, but I never eat, so why start now? Besides, I'm too scared.

"Where's your lunch?" Dess asks.

"I'm not very hungry today," I say, even though my stomach was growling.

"Oh, OK. Well, have you made any other friends yet?" Dess asks.

"I don't like talking to a lot of people."

"Have you been having strange dreams?" Rex blurted out like he has been holding that question in forever.

The nightmares. They were every night. "Ummm... yes." I admitted.

"What are they about?" he asked with a serious expression on his face.

"Well, I wake up in the middle of the night and everything's blue. And frozen. When I walk outside, these furry things attack me. They're usually snakes or birds."

His eyes widen. "What street do you live on?"

What does he want? Why does he need to know? Was he going to hurt me, too? "Ummm... why do you need to know?"

"They're not dreams."

"I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that." What did he mean "they weren't dreams"?

"Just tell me where you live," he said, impatience thick in his voice.

"2486 B-baker Ave... avenue."

The bell rang and I was a mixed bag of emotions. Happy that Rex finally let up, and missing Dess.

The rest of the day, all I could think about were the nightmares. They weren't as bad as my life, but they were still terrifying. Completely alone, feeling like you're drowning in a sea of blue.

Finally. It's time for Trig.

I take my seat next to Dess and, out of some unknown spring, tears start pouring down my face. I try to wipe them away. Dess notices.

"What's the matter?" she said in a genuine tone.

"I don't know," I lied. I knew I was crying because it was the end of the day. I cried because I knew dad would hurt me worse tonight.

She got up and brought me a few tissues. "I'm sorry. I hope you feel better soon," she smiled her irresistable smile and the whole world was better. I knew I had to stop crying before Mr. Sanchez notices and sends me to the nurse. I couldn't waste this precious time I had with her.

I tried to pay attention, but it was hard with an actual angel sitting next to me, within touching distance. I tried with all my strength not to reach out and stroke her beautiful face, but it was one of the most challenging things I've ever done.

The class ended and I headed home, rushing so I wouldn't be late and get in even _more_ trouble with dad.

I walked in and was greeted with a slap, a push down the stairs, and a throw on the mattress.

"YOU WENT TO SCHOOL BEFORE I SAID YOU COULD! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO WAIT UNTIL I PUNISH YOU! THAT MEANS BEING LATE IF YOU HAVE TO!" he boomed, tieing me so tight I bled. My clothes were then in a shredded pile on the floor. Another ruined outfit. He licked the side of my face, grinning. I trembled so hard it shook the bed. "What? Can't wait, can you? Why the trembling, you worthless nobody?" he said darkly.

Next thing I know, he's hurting me. I try to stop crying, but I can't. He pushes harder, harder, harder. I hope he kills me tonight. I hope I never have to see another day again.

NO! I can't die! If I die, I'll never see Dess again. I'll never hear her voice that sounded like windchimes blowing softly in the morning wind.

OW! There's a seering pain on my side. I look down, and he's burning me with his lighter. I clench my teeth together, waiting for him to stop burning me.

"That's for being rude and not saying thank you and that you're sorry this morning."

I'm on my stomach. No. What's he doing? Am I going to die?

He pours something on my back. It burns. Now I know it's vodka. He's trying to torture me, but the only thing I can think of is my mother's agonized expression. If only she was able to help her baby girl. Well, all I can say to that is: I'm not a little girl anymore. I never will be.

My thighs are being squeezed. What? Oh, God. He's using the spike belts as tourniquets. They pierce my skin and I bleed.

"This shows you're mine," he whispers in my ear. He smells like a mixture of heroin and meth. Great.

He rips the belts off and starts whipping me. It doesn't hurt anymore. I've become so numb. But only physically.

I feel the weight coming off of me. He's gone. There's a soft pulse all over my body and in my ears. Mom cleans me up and apologizes. She carries me upstairs and we sit in the rocking chair together, crying and trying to figure out why he hates me so much.

His car comes up the driveway and I'm all alone again. I need a couple oxys. I take the little bottle out of the shoebox and pop them in my mouth. They're bitter, but it'll do. I need to be numb right now. In more ways than just physically.

I toss and turn all night. The only thing I can think about is the five times I've tried to kill myself. They were all because of him. I feel like trying again. Pushing the razor into my flesh, swallowing the bottle of oxys. But where would I go? I have a pretty good feeling I'm going to hell. Why? Because I don't believe in God. I never have. If God "loved" me, why would he let my father punish me for something I didn't do? Maybe He's punishing me for being a lesbian. For not living the way you're "supposed" to. Yeah, that's it. I'm not like Him, so I get tortured everywhere I turn.

My reoccuring dream comes again tonight, but if what Rex had said today was true, it wasn't a dream. I decide to go outside and explore, as like the few times I had done before. So I get up and put on my tennis shoes and one of my many hoodies. It's just plain black, nothing special. Once I'm outside, I can hear something. I can't tell quite what it is, but maybe if I walk around I may find where it's coming from. My house is on the left side of the street if you're going north, and right if you're going south. I turn right in hope of that being where the sound is at. Yes! It's getting louder, I'm in the right direction. I find myself running now. Jeez, I'm just that excited. I roll my eyes to myself.

Up ahead I see moving figures, hopefully not the snakes or the birds. As I approach the figures, I notice they're humans. One of them is Dess. This makes me ecstatic, not happy, ecstatic. I run faster just to be closer to her. I see Melissa and Rex, too.

"Hey, wh... what's going on?" I say to Dess. I wish I would stop fucking studdering. I sound like a goddamn drug addict... Come to think of it, I kind of _am _a drug addict. When did I start cursing, anyway? Whatever.

"This is the secret hour. Only a few select people can explore it, these people are what we call Midnighters. Midnighters are people born within a minute or so of midnight, either a minute before, or a minute after. Or as you know it, 11:59 p.m., or 12:01 a.m., Daylighters are what we call people who aren't Midnighters. For us, time freezes and we get a whole extra hour in the day to do whatever we want with no rules in our way. The only thing though, is that you have to know how to survive when it comes each night."

I blink blank-mindedly as if not knowing what she just said, and I barely did. "Ummm... How did you f-find me here?" Dammit! Why can't I just _act_ like I'm not a fucking freak? Is it a full-time job or some shit like that?

Melissa starts explaining, "Every Midnighter has a special talent that is at it's strongest at midnight. I, for instance, am a Mindcaster, meaning I can read minds. Every mind has a different taste depending on the persons personality. Yours... tastes like... blood," she says, a confused expression crossing her face.

A hot flush goes through me. "... B-b... blood...?"

"Yes."

"I-is there anything else I should, um, kn-know about the, uh...?"

"The secret hour." Rex decides to say.

"Thanks. But are there still things I need to know?"

Rex answers my question. "There is always something you should know about the secret hour. Some things Melissa, Dess, and I don't even know quite yet."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Midnighters: Scarlet Lorraine**_

The rest of that night and the entire week went by in a blur. A studdering, confused blur.

I wake up to find my stomach tied up in knots, and I'm nauceous. Nauceous because it's the weekend. Labor Day weekend. You wanna know what dad calls it? He simply says "Punishment Weekend", but I say "Go Fuck Your Daughter Because No One Else Wants You, You Sick Bastard Weekend". Either way, it's going to brutal, and I'll have to cover it all up for school. The bruises, burns, scars, cuts, whatever in the hell he's in the mood for. God, how demented does that sound?

Whatever. I decide it's better to just go outside than get ambushed in my own room. Yes. he's done that to me before. The sheets got so stained and torn that we had to throw them away. And when he got me new ones, he hurt me even worse that time. That's what he does whenever he buys me something. Summers are particularly painful.

I peek into the living room to find mom knitting.

"Scarlet! What are you doing?!" she puts the knitting down and comes over to me. "Do you _want _to get hurt?!" she whispers, alarmed.

"I'll get hurt worse if I stay up there too long. Besides, he always finds something to hurt me for," I say and shrug.

"You are so strong. I hope the man you decide to marry will feel extra blessed to have such a beautiful, strong, educated woman," she says, tearing up.

I know I should come out, but when will we ever have the time? And what would Dad do if he found out? I don't even feel like thinking about it. Not when I think about what's going to happen to me today. "Where is he?"

"Drug run," she says, rolling her eyes. "He oughtta be back in a few minutes."

"Might as well get it over with..." and I trudge downstairs in an attempt to make this as painless as possible. I pause to stare at the furniture. Two white adirondack chairs and a glass coffee table. Then I force my gaze over to the mattress. I usually never linger on thoughts about it, but I feel like really looking at it.

It's disgusting. With blood, dirt, sweat, and a few other things I don't usually mention. The smell is almost unbearable. Sweat, tears, alcohol, and blood. Again, there are a few scents that are particularly disturbing...

"WHAT THE FUCK, LORRAINE?!" he yells suddenly, and I flinch. "I TOLD YOU TO WAIT DOWNSTAIRS!!! WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?!"

My mother must have said something "bad" because I hear a slap, and see her tumble down the stairs. I know a lot better than to help her up, but I throw her a sorrowful glance.

He walks over and grabs a fistful of my hair and pushes, knocking me onto the cold basement floor. Hot, rough hands shred my clothes and press into the flesh at my sides. I'm lifted up and thrown back down onto the coffee table, shattering the glass. _I'm gonna have to pay for that, too. Shit._ I catch a glimpse of mom's shocked expression before the glass cuts into my skin.

A million shards break the almost smooth surface of my back, cutting open my scarred flesh. His hands rip the big pieces out of me, and the blood flows onto the floor before I'm slammed onto the mattress. I guess he's in such a hurry to do the deed that he doesn't even think about tying me up. Poor choice. I imagine myself putting my foot right onto his groin, probably breaking something in the process. Then he could never get it up to begin with.

The thinking stops cold when he finishes taking his own clothes off and charges back onto the mattress. I clench my teeth, expecting him to enter me, but when I open my eyes, I see him staring at my breasts. Oh God. He's never acted this way before, practically ignoring the fact that I had one of the biggest chests in my grade. They're full C's, and perky as can be. Now I'm starting to remember why I've always hated them. As big as my breasts are, I knew dad was going to notice them sooner or later. It just had to be today, didn't it? His hands fly up to my chest and start squeezing and pumping roughly. The way his hands move make me feel as if my breasts have become stress balls, only he is using them for way more than stress. He's getting out his frustrations. By the time he finishes feeling me up, my breasts are bruised and numb.

_Oh please, God, no!_

He sits on me, and the weight is unbearable. The sudden change has knocked the wind out of me, and my chest feels like an anvil dropped on every single bruise. So much for being numb. When I realize what he is trying to do, I panic. Why the fuck is all this changing?! I can't stand it! He slides into my mouth and I panic. After a few grueling minutes, he cums inside my mouth and I'm forced to swallow it all. I choke on it before he gets off me.

"Does it taste good, whore?" he growls, and a shiver crawls up my spine. "It ain't over yet." My father gets off the bed and picks up a rather large shard of glass, then gets back on. "This is Punishment Weekend. Time for a little more fun," and he shoves the glass inside of me.

I scream at the top of my lungs, my back arching as pain shoots through my body. _WHAT THE FUCK?! _After he pulls out the glass, he positions himself over my entrance and thrusts forward, ripping and tearing me in the process. I clench my teeth together painfully and snap my eyes closed, waiting for him to finish.

After a long time, maybe an hour, he gets off the bed, but I know better than to open my eyes or move. I open my eyes just a bit to see him standing over the fireplace, burning something. He walks back over and I realize that he was burning a wire hanger shaped like L.Y. Lucipher Young. A feeling of panic coarses through me as I realize what he's intending to do.

When he reaches the mattress, he sits and pins me down. Then he presses the hanger against my skin, branding his initials right where my stomach meets the V between my legs.

I scream again, but I can't move. Dad's pinned me under his massive weight. After a few more seconds, he pulls the hanger off, leaving his initials carved into my skin.

He leaves, and mom is bawling. She tries to pick me up to take me to my room, but I tell her I don't need her to. When I get inside my room, I go straight to the shoebox and grab my razor.

When it breaks the skin, all I can think of is how I'm ever going to get out of this alive.


End file.
